


The Beast

by TheDarkLordMegatron



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Accept the little crumbs before the pain, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Fluff (In between the angst), Hurt No Comfort, It does start happy though so that's a bonus right?, Like one chapter, Look I dont do happy, M/M, Mentions of child neglect, Multi, Some Sex, Step-Dad Titus, dad cor, graphic description of violence, lots of death, no happy ending, this is not a happy fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:34:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28252470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDarkLordMegatron/pseuds/TheDarkLordMegatron
Summary: His name is Titus Drautos. He has served Lucis and the Crown for close to fifteen years. In those years he found and married his soulmate, became a step-father to a young boy from Niflheim and is one of the most trusted men in the Lucian government.His name is also General Glauca. He is the Empire's prized Asset and he will watch Lucis burn.(A year-long Christmas gift for MeinNameIsJette! <3)
Relationships: Gladiolus Amicitia/Prompto Argentum/Noctis Lucis Caelum/Ignis Scientia, Titus Drautos | Glauca/Cor Leonis
Comments: 2
Kudos: 21





	1. Hello There ( M.E. 744)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MeinNameIstJette](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MeinNameIstJette/gifts).



> So, uh, this took me a literal year because I am useless~ Happy Christmas Bits! (Except this isn't a happy fic, so please bear that in mind xD)
> 
> There will be time-jumps between chapters, but those will be pointed out in the notes at the beginning of each one! For example, the first chapter takes place 12 years before the events of the game, the second takes place during the game.
> 
> To be updated regularly! The timeline has become a mess already so...oops?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Timeline: M.E. 744, 12 years before the events of the main game.
> 
> Warnings: Emotionally constipated Cor~

In the years following his appointment to Regis’ guard, Cor had come to learn that the man was an absolute shit who took far too much pleasure in tormenting both himself and Clarus regularly. Which was why, when he stepped into Regis’ office at 9 am on the dot, despite having been summoned almost an hour earlier (if Regis thought he was going to give up having breakfast with his son to attend a damned meeting he had another thing coming) only to come face to face with the man said King knew he had been admiring from afar, Cor was sorely tempted to turn on his heel and walk straight back out of the door. 

“Cor!” Regis said with a smile as Cor stepped inside, closing the door with a little more force than was necessary. “Apologies for disturbing your morning. I hadn’t remembered it was Thursday until Clarus reminded me.” That at least explained why Clarus hadn’t shown up on his doorstep and dragged him into the Citadel by his ear, something he had done more than once in the past when Cor had stubbornly refused to answer one of Regis’ summons. ‘Dad Day’ as Monica had so lovingly nicknamed it when he’d first adopted Prompto, was the one day a week he wasn’t expected to drag himself out of bed at the crack of dawn and stumble into the Citadel in his patented caffeine-fuelled daze. “How is Prompto doing?” He questioned as Cor crossed the room.

“Well, thank you. Some problems with bullies again but nothing we can’t handle.” Cor responded, folding his arms behind his back as he stopped beside the unfairly attractive man. Regis nodded sagely, knowing the full scale of Prompto’s problems in school and having helped Cor deal with it in the past both with and without his knowledge.

“I am sorry to hear that, please let me know if there is anything I can do to help.” 

“Thank you for the offer your Majesty, but we will be fine.” Which roughly translated to ‘Keep your nose out of it before I punt you out of a window you nosey old fart.’ Regis simply smiled whilst Clarus sighed heavily from his position behind him.

“Very well, but the offer remains.” Cor watched on in silence as Regis stood from his chair, accepting the arm Clarus offered to him in the process. He was going to have to speak with Clarus again in regards to Regis’ failing health, a conversation they had had far too many times in the last year alone, and work out if he needed to pick up some of the Shield’s duties so he could dedicate more time to caring for their friend. Once within a safe-range, Regis placed a hand on Cor’s shoulder, a subtle way of stabilising himself whilst also coming across casual enough to their guest to not raise any further suspicion. “Do you remember the discussions we have had in regards to establishing a new division of soldiers?”

Cor nodded “The Kingsglaive, correct?” 

“Indeed,” Regis confirmed, “Clarus and I have had further discussions since our conversations and decided that we need to proceed with our plans sooner rather than later.” Ah, now he could see where this was going. “I would like you to meet Titus Drautos.” Regis motioned towards the other man, finally giving Cor a reason to look at him closely for the first time since he’d seen him running laps around the training grounds all those months ago. Well built (those arms? In clothing that tight? Was that even legal?), slightly taller than himself (a novelty when he is often one of the tallest in the room) and of a similar age perhaps. A small part of himself, the part he studiously locked away after Prompto came into his life, screams the man, Titus, looks like he could bench-press him without a second thought. And then Titus’ piercing blue eyes met his own. “He is to be the Captain of our Kingsglaive.” Regis you smug bastard.

“A pleasure to meet you, Captain,” Cor greeted, holding his right hand out and praying to whichever Astral he hasn’t annoyed that week that his hand isn’t sweaty.

“And you Marshal.” Oh. Oh, Six damn it. “I look forward to working beside you.” It was only because Clarus moved into view behind Titus, one eyebrow raised to his non-existent hairline, that Cor remembered to release the man’s hand. 

“As of yesterday Captain Drautos has been put in charge of the newly formed Kingsglaive, and will be responsible for overseeing the war from the frontlines. The Crownsguards will be pulled back and redistributed across Lucis, taking up more defensive roles in our outlying areas such as Lestallum and Galdin.” That made sense he supposed. “Captain Drautos also suggested we recruit a number of the Galahdians currently residing in Insomnia.” 

“I believe their determination and fighting spirit would serve us well in the long run,” Drautos picked up, “And their natural affinity towards magic makes them prime candidates to share the Crystal’s power with.” 

“That is true,” Cor agreed, doing his best to focus on the man’s words and not just his voice.

“But that is a discussion for another day,” Regis interjected, squeezing the hand on Cor’s shoulder “I do apologise that I have kept you so long Captain. It was not my intention to do so but I thank you for coming in so early.”

“It is no bother your Majesty,” Titus replied with a slight bow, “I was already on-site and going through the dossiers yourself and Lord Amicitia provided.” 

“Ah yes, the dossiers. I’m sure if you require any assistance with them the Marshal will be more than happy to assist you.” Without missing a beat, Cor nodded his assent.

“Thank you, Marshal,” Titus said.

“Excellent!” Regis released Cor’s shoulder to clap his hands together “Do not let us keep you any longer Captain, I am sure you have plenty of things you would rather be doing than standing around here.” Had Cor not been studying Titus closely, something he was certain Clarus had picked up on, he would have missed the brief look of relief that flashed across his face at the dismissal.

“Of course your Majesty,” Titus said with a bow before turning to face Clarus, “Thank you once again Lord Amicitia” And then those eyes were back on Cor “Marshal.” One final bow and he was gone, the door swinging shut behind him. 

Silence fell over the room as Clarus helped Regis back to his chair before perching himself on the edge of the desk, their ‘respectable’ images long gone, replaced by shameless grins.

“You absolute bastards,” Cor hissed once he was certain that enough time had passed for Drautos to be safely out of the vicinity. Both King and Shield erupted into laughter, Regis clutching his chest and Clarus curling over. “You did that to spite me didn’t you?”

“Oh Cor,” Regis choked out between laughter “Drautos was on the top of our list of contenders for the position, just under yourself actually,” The wriggled eyebrows that accompanied his words had Cor blushing, “But we all know you would never have taken it, not when it meant putting you back on the frontlines.” 

“I’d have accepted it just to annoy you.” Cor shot back, crossing his arms over his chest and levelling them with what he hoped was an effective glare, “Leave you two to run Lucis into the ground and laugh from the safety of my tiny, Daemon surrounded tent.” 

“No, you wouldn’t.” Clarus chuckled, giving him a warm smile, “Not if it meant leaving Prompto behind.” Cor’s mouth slammed shut with an audible ‘clack’, the protest dying in his throat. 

“We weren’t trying to make you uncomfortable Cor,” Regis reassured him “In fact, I didn’t know it was Titus you’ve been talking about until Clarus pointed it out.”

“What? How-?”

“You’re hardly subtle,” Clarus answered, “Just be grateful that only we know you well enough to know that when you look like you’re plotting someone’s death, you’re really just staring at their legs.

“I do not stare at his legs!” Cor protested, knowing damn well that he had in fact, been staring at Titus’ legs when the man was running laps. So what if the man had incredibly powerful calf muscles? 

“It’s okay Cor,” Regis said softly, “We’re not going to judge you.” An eyebrow raised in the King’s general direction “Tease you? Absolutely. But we’ll never judge you. Now,” He rolled his neck before leaning forward, the smile morphing into a more serious expression as he rested his arms on the edge of his desk, “Tell me what’s going on with Prompto.”

With a heavy sigh, Cor pulled one of the chairs from the corner of the room and set it in front of the large wooden desk before dropping down onto it unceremoniously. 

Where did he even begin?


	2. And So It Begins ( M.E. 756)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Timeline: Set in M.E 756, the canonical date of Insomnia's Fall.
> 
> Warnings: Mentions of explosions, brief non-graphic mention of blood and death.
> 
> I'm not good at writing depictions of war, please forgive me haha!

Beyond the cold stone upon which he was leaning, Insomnia laid before him. Rows upon rows of towering steel monoliths stretching high above her streets, reaching out towards the shimmering blue, cloudless sky that laid beyond the Wall. Her streets filled with her citizens scurrying about their daily lives unaware of the chaos brewing in both rural Lucis and the Citadel itself. With nought but the gentle wisps of wind to keep him company, it was peaceful. Unsettling so.

“Monica said we might find you up here.” Startled, Cor pulled himself away from the edge of the Citadel and turned to face the owner of the voice. Regis and Clarus were slowly making their way towards him, a few Kingsglaive he did not recognise, standing at the edge of the stairwell. “It’s not often I manage to startle The Immortal Marshal,” Regis teased as he too moved to lean against the same wall Cor had been, “We should make a note of it, Clarus.  _ Today, on the 16th of May M.E 756, we managed to make Cor jump. _ ” 

“Truly something for the history books,” Clarus drawled, though the small smirk on his face belated his amusement. 

“Sometimes I wonder why I still put up with you both.” Cor shot back, returning to his previous position beside the King.

“Because you love us and your life would be unbearably dull without us around to amuse you,” Regis replied.

“You say that and yet…” He trailed off, giving the pair a small, teasing smile of his own.

A sudden but gentle slap on the back of his head had Cor whipping around to glare at Clarus, noting that Regis had done the same only he was giving his Shield his patented  _ ‘I’m the King, you can’t hit me’  _ pout. “You are both children and I should just throw you over the edge right now.” The Shield said, arms folded over his chest as though he hadn’t just assaulted the Lucian monarch. “So are you going to tell us why we spent an hour looking for you only to have Monica tell us you were up here brooding?” 

“I was not brooding,” Cor protested, though he was fairly certain neither of the men believed him. “I was thinking.” 

Regis opened his mouth, likely to produce yet another insult when a deafening sound erupted from somewhere behind him, towards the centre of the city if he had to fathom a guess. Without a moment’s hesitation, and in complete synchronisation with Clarus, Cor threw himself at Regis, covering his body with his own and forcing the older man to the ground with little care for his already aching body. The trio hit the ground seconds before a shockwave shook the Citadel and another cacophony of noise assaulted their ears.

Cor wasn’t quite sure how long they had been lying on the cold concrete that comprised the Citadel’s rooftop, only that one moment Clarus’ comforting weight was on his back and the next he was gone. Pulling his head away from Regis’ and glancing upwards, he caught sight of Clarus throwing one Glaive over the edge of the roof and impaling the other through the neck with a hastily summoned blade.

“Up!” Clarus roared, throwing the second body aside “Get up!” 

Wasting no time, Cor clambered to his feet, pulling Regis up with him as he did so though he made sure to keep one arm securely wrapped around his shoulders for both security and support.

“What the fuck was that?!” Cor bellowed, glancing back over his shoulder and staring in horror at the columns of smoke rising upwards from several districts, one of which was in the general vicinity of Noctis’ apartment - where their sons had spent the last twenty-four hours. 

"No idea. The second we hit the floor the bastards were coming at us, weapons drawn. They knew this was coming!" Clarus shot back.

“Take Regis!” The King himself offered no protest as he was passed from one man to the other, his own eyes locked firmly on the cityscape behind them. With Regis secured under his left arm, Clarus all but sprinted towards the stairwell, the dagger he used to kill the Glaive replaced with his familiar broadsword.  Pulling his phone from his back pocket, Cor dialled Monica.

“ _ Marshal!”  _ Her voice echoed down the line, barely audible over panicked shouting in the background.

“What happened?!” He demanded, sliding past Clarus and Regis to take point on the staircase as they quickly descended.

_ “Multiple, coordinated strikes around Insomnia,”  _ She reported voice calm as always  _ “I’ve sent Dustin with a few trusted Crownsguards to find and secure the Prince. We can’t get hold of Lord Amicitia or His Majesty. A number of the Kingsglaive seemed to have turned on us, I’ve yet to hear from Captain Drautos.” _

“Amicitia and the King are with me,” Cor replied as he reached the final stair, slowly opening the emergency door, Kotetsu held firmly in one hand. Stepping out he was met with an empty, unnervingly quiet corridor. According to protocol, there should have been at least five Glaives standing guard. Ducking back into the stairwell he motioned for Clarus and Regis to stay where they were. “Treat all Glaives as hostile unless they prove otherwise,” He said softly, keeping one eye on the corridor, “And keep trying to reach Drautos. If you do make contact, have him meet us in the Crystal’s Chamber. Once the King is secure I’ll meet you in Zone Delta.”

_ “Yes, Marshal. Try to stay alive.” _

“You too Elshett.” Hanging up, he tucked his phone away once more and stepped back out. Stealth had always been something he had excelled at but as he made his way down the corridor, every footstep seemed to ricochet off the walls, a loud ‘ _ I’m here!’  _ to anyone or anything lying in wait. And true to form, the moment he stepped out into a more open area, three of the five missing Glaives flashed into existence. 

Had he not spent thirty years honing his body into a weapon, they would have likely succeeded in killing him there and then, leaving Regis and Clarus open to a surprise attack of their own, however, he had been expecting such a move and their speed and agility was nothing when compared to an angry King and his Shield desperate to teach a sixteen-year-old to defend himself. Within seconds the trio of Glaives were dead, their bodies crumpled around him and a cursory glance in the direction they had come from confirmed the deaths of the other two. It seemed that not all of the Glaives had turned traitor after all. The feeling of dread over the lack of confirmation of his husband’s whereabouts, only deepened as Cor called for Clarus and Regis. Had Titus been betrayed by those under his command? Stabbed in the back by soldiers he had personally trained and cared for? Or was he somewhere in the depths of the Citadel fighting for his life?

The appearance of his brothers brought a temporary end to his panic, though the grim expressions on their faces and the way Clarus’ knuckles turned white on the hilt of his sword told him that they were likely thinking something similar.

“Fuck,” Clarus hissed as they passed the bodies “Any word from Titus?”

“Nothing yet,” Cor responded, clearing another room before allowing them to pass through.

“And the boys?” Had it not been for the absolute silence, Cor would have likely missed Regis’ quiet question.

“Monica sent Dustin out to find them.” No more was said on the matter, though Cor was certain that each of them had the same, gruesome thoughts. What if their sons had been caught up in whatever had happened? What if they laid injured amongst the chaos, desperately hoping their fathers would come and save them?

His previously silent comm crackled to life and a familiar baritone filled his ear.  _ “This is Drautos, is anyone there?” _

“I’m here Titus,” Cor replied immediately, relief filling him as his husband sighed on the other end. “Where are you?” He looked over his shoulder to nod at Regis and Clarus, both of whom seemed to have relaxed ever so slightly.

_ “The Council’s Chambers. All of the Council are dead and a number of the Glaives have turned traitor. I’ve sent those still loyal out to hunt down the traitors and dispose of them, but I’ve yet to find the King or Amicitia and cannot contact their guards.” _

“They’re with me,” Cor reassured him, “We’re in the Eastern wing and are moving to the Crystal’s Chambers, meet us there.”

_ “Understood. Stay safe.”  _

“You too.” The line clicked off. “The Council are dead and Titus confirmed that some of the Kingsglaive are traitors.”

Regis shook his head, despair heavy in his voice as he spoke: “So this is the Empire’s doing.”

“It would seem so your Majesty.”

“Then let us make haste, we’ve wasted enough time as it is. The sooner we can regroup, the sooner we can counter this attack.” The Citadel shook beneath their feet and the windows lining the Eastern wall shattered. Clarus moved to cover Regis’ body with his own, taking the brunt of the damage as glass shredded their uniforms. For his own part, Cor barely had the time to bring his arms up to shield his face and grunted as several shards tore into his skin.

“Move,” Clarus ordered as soon as the shaking stopped, one hand wrapped firmly around Regis’ bicep. They had barely made it a handful of steps before the building rocked once more, this time accompanied by the very familiar and very unwelcome sound of mortar fire. “Bloody hell!” Their fast walk turned into a run, Clarus practically carrying Regis as they bolted down the corridors and stairwells, windows shattering around them, a result of the shockwaves and explosions bombarding the Citadel. 

The high-pitched whine of incoming artillery was all the warning they had before the wall to their right exploded, shrapnel and debris raining down on them. Yet again, Cor found himself on the floor, his ears ringing and smoke filling his lungs. Coughing harshly he forced himself onto his side, eyes frantically searching for his friends, finally locating them 5 feet to his left, Regis hidden beneath Clarus’ bulk, the latter of whom was attempting to push a large chunk of concrete off of his back. Scrambling to his feet, Cor stumbled over to lend a hand, pushing the debris aside and helping the pair to their feet, taking note of the blood on Clarus’ side.

“Keep moving,” Clarus rasped, pushing Cor and Regis in front of him “We’re nearly there.” They weren’t. Cor, however, wasn’t going to be the one to tell him that, not when screams had started to echo through the building accompanied by the hauntingly familiar sound of Magitek soldiers.

Another round of mortar fire and the entire Eastern staircase collapsed behind them. 


	3. Soulmark (M.E. 722-745)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Timeline, each section in the following order: M.E. 722, M.E. 728, M.E. 734, M.E. 745
> 
> Warnings: Very brief and non-explicit sex scene at the end of the chapter, also a warning for Cor's thicc thighs attempting to choke someone~

The soulmark appeared on the curve of his left shoulder the night of his tenth birthday. Two beautiful, deep burgundy flowers woven around a singular dagger, nothing at all like the lilacs wrapped around the wrists of his parents. Not that his childhood self particularly cared. It was _his_ mark and it was beautiful. At least, he’d thought so until he had run into his parents’ bedroom with all the glee a boy of ten could muster and bounced around his mother’s legs before his father playfully threw him onto their bed with a laugh and a _‘Show us then little wolf!’._

The instant he pulled his t-shirt over his head with a delighted giggle, the warm and excited smiles on his parents’ faces vanished. Replaced with a horrified gasp and tears from his mother, and a silent grimness from his father.

 _‘“What’s wrong mama?”_ He’d asked, fiddling with the edge of his t-shirt, disconcerted by the sudden change in atmosphere and lack of excitement. His parents had been such happy souls, their home always filled with laughter and happiness, the lack of both had his childhood self squirming in discomfort, hiding behind the thin fabric of his well-loved ‘Malbuddy’ shirt. Everyone always said soulmarks were a good thing, they meant that there was someone out there for him to love and who would love him in return, why were they so sad about his?! 

_“Nothing is wrong little wolf,”_ She’d whispered through her tears, pressing a kiss to his forehead _“Nothing at all.”_ And he believed her. She was his mother, and mothers never lied to their children. Father said so.

* * *

He was sixteen, newly orphaned, homeless and in the care of the Lucian government when he realised the truth behind his soulmark. One of the other boys living in the same care centre as himself was particularly interested in Floriography and spent hours trawling through books, and would spend hours explaining the meaning behind the flowers of anyone who asked. Titus hadn’t asked. He rarely even spoke to any of them, but Cassius spotted the ‘ink’ on his shoulder on a particularly hot night when Titus forwent a shirt and his bed in favour of laying on the cool wooden floor. 

_“Black Dahlias,”_ He’d breathed from where he hung over the edge of the bunk they shared, gaze firmly locked upon his shoulder. _“You never mentioned you had Dahlias in your mark Drautos!”_

 _“Because it’s not important,”_ Titus grunted in response, throwing an arm over his eyes in the hopes the other boy would get the hint and go to sleep. He didn’t. Instead, he rambled on and on about the meaning of the different coloured Dahlias, pausing only briefly before rambling on into an in-depth explanation of all the negative connotations connected to Titus’ particular flowers. Betrayal and sadness all wrapped up into one neat, and annoyingly beautiful, soulmark. How wonderful.

 _“It doesn’t have to mean something bad though!”_ Cassius spluttered, obviously realising he’d overstepped and was doing more harm than good. _“Well, it could, but probably not you hurting each other! My cousin was at the Duscae massacre and he had a bouquet of Chrysanthemums over his heart, so we thought that maybe his soulmate would die, or someone in the family? But no! He got his leg blown off and when he was recovering in the medics tent there was this pretty blonde lady in the bed next to him missing an arm and leg, had the same mark and everything! So we guessed that the flowers meant the massacre considering they were brought together after everyone else died! So maybe it’s the same for you and your soulmate!”_ Titus had switched off after that, focusing his attention on his heartbeat whilst considering Cassius’ words, a tiny ember of hope burning in his chest.

* * *

The ember faded the moment he knelt before Aldercapt and Izunia, a newly armoured hand resting over his heart and swore his allegiance to Empire. 

* * *

Leonis having a soulmark should not have come as a surprise, nor should it have had him pausing mid-punch as the man writhed around in the sand beneath him in an attempt to escape his grasp. Then again, he should not have been staring down at a familiar pair of flowers, on unfamiliar skin, through the torn scraps of what had once been the Marshal’s shirt before their simple ‘sparring’ match had turned into something far more vicious. This man, a person who represented everything he hated about Lucis, and whose death he had envisioned more than once since they first met a year prior, was his **soulmate.**

Oh, how the gods must hate him.

A punch to the jaw and a pair of legs wrapping around his neck forced Titus from his thoughts and into an uncomfortable chokehold. His head and right arm pressed against the Marshal’s bare torso. Grunting in both shock and a little pain, he immediately brought his head upright and straightened his back, punching both hands into Leonis’ abdomen. However, instead of immediately breaking the hold as Titus had hoped, something in Cor’s eyes darkened and the thighs around his neck tightened their hold, clinging onto him even as Drautos stumbled to his feet. 

Whistles and whoops echoed around the arena as Guards and Glaives alike cheered them on, though Titus was able to pick out a few of the more suggestive comments coming from Ulric. He made a note to give the man extra laps during their next training session. 

With his head forced back down once again, this time a little closer to Cor’s crotch, Titus hissed in pain and attempted to pry Cor’s legs away with a few well-placed hits to sensitive joints. 

“Yield,” Cor grunted, tightening his thighs once more, powerful muscles flexing against Titus’ neck and beneath his hands. 

“Fuck you,” He hissed in response, throwing his weight to the left bringing both himself and Cor back down to the sand with a grunt. 

Cor, ever the snarky bastard, shot back a quick “Buy me dinner first,” before somehow contorting his body further around Titus’, which indirectly moved them into a far more compromised position. 

Ah, so they were playing dirty then.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Titus brought his elbow down, directly onto Leonis’ balls. The reaction was immediate, the man himself groaned and his grip lessened, not a lot but just enough that Titus was able to grasp his calves and pull himself free, throwing Cor aside as he did so. 

The Crownsguards gathered spat insults, shouted about ‘playing dirty’ and ‘cheap shots’, the Glaives cackled. That being said, a quick glance upwards revealed a few of them wincing in sympathy, their own legs moved into protective positions. 

“That was low,” Cor hissed as he rolled to into a crouch, his left leg held tightly beneath his body, the right planted firmly in front of him, and his eyes narrowed into a vicious glare. 

“We did not agree otherwise Marshal,” Titus drawled, his gaze momentarily returning to those damned flowers on Cor’s body as the man himself tore off the few lingering scraps of his shirt. Pale blue eyes tracked his own, flitting to his shoulder before returning to Titus.

“There a problem Captain?” He enquired, head tilted in a way that he should not have found attractive and yet did so anyway. 

“None at all,” Rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck, Titus stood up to his full height. “I was simply wondering how much more clothing you intend to lose before I have you pinned beneath me again.” Cor’s glare softened ever so slightly, morphing into something more amused than anything as the corner of his mouth ticking upwards into a smirk.

“If I am not mistaken, you have already spent a fair amount of time between my thighs today. Are you sure you want a repeat performance so soon?” 

Titus laughed harshly, returning Cor’s smirk with a vicious grin of his own, “If you believe that this match is going to end in any other way than with you pinned face-down in the sand, then you are sorely mistaken.”

“So confident,” Cor drawled, shifting into a more defensive stance when Titus took a step forward. “Why not put your money where your mouth is?” With a grin and chuckle, Titus threw himself forward, locking his arms around Cor’s body and forcing him backwards. Oh, he would show him alright. 

* * *

An hour after their ‘erotic brawl in the sand’, as Lord Amicitia had aptly named it, Titus was able to observe Cor’s soulmark properly. With the man himself pinned up against the cold tiles of the officer’s showers, warm water running over their bodies in an attempt to mask any...unprofessional noises, Titus was given unbridled access to the familiar and yet unfamiliar markings. 

Intricate burgundy petals danced across the muscular shoulder, the sharp silver of the dagger between them aiming directly towards Cor’s heart, an exact copy of the lines that adorned Titus’ own body. Tracing them first with gentle fingers, then his tongue, Titus wrapped one arm around Cor’s waist and pulled him back against his body, bringing their hips flush against one another and drawing out a soft moan from Cor.

_ “Shit,”  _ Cor hissed almost reverently, one muscular arm reaching back in his general direction, only to be forced up against the tiles once again as Titus wound their fingers together and rolled his hips. Chuckling against the smooth skin of Cor’s shoulder, he tightened his hold on the muscular body against his and thrust once again.

His soulmark was a warning of future pain and suffering. A promise of what was to come. However, painted on the pale and unmarred skin of the man in his arms, it was a thing of beauty.


	4. Go. (M.E. 756)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Timeline: M.E. 756 - the canonical date of Insomnia's Fall.
> 
> Warnings: Mentions of corpses and a loss of a limb.

To many General Glauca was little more than a mythological nightmare. A daemonic creature who haunted the memories of those who’d borne witness to his cruelty and occasionally appeared in faded photographs. He was, perhaps, more terrifying to many than the Empire itself. 

And now, the very creature responsible for so many atrocities since his first recorded appearance twelve years ago, stood in the Crystal’s chamber, silhouetted against the burning rubble of what had once been the Southern wall. Tall, broad, encased in armour and wielding a blade larger than some of Clarus’ more impressive blades, he cut an imposing figure and Cor could finally understand why Regis feared him so.

“General Glauca,” Regis said dispassionately as he moved to stand beside Cor, Clarus sliding into a protective stance in front of them both, ever the loyal Shield. For his own part, Cor made a point of easing into his preferred ready position, his right leg sliding backwards in conjunction with his summoning of Kotetsu. 

The Imperial General remained silent, though Cor noted the tightening of his hand on the hilt of his sword.

“We’re too exposed,” Cor murmured softly, angling himself in such a way that he would easily be able to cover Regis with his own body should Clarus suddenly find himself on the offensive. Regis cast a quick glance in the direction of the Crystal, which stood twenty feet to their right, encased in chains and pulsing rapidly. “The Crystal will be of no use to anyone if you are dead.” He reasoned, pulling Regis’ attention back to himself and their current situation.

Another round of mortar fire and the Citadel shook beneath them, small chunks of concrete and steel falling free from the ceiling. The haunting melody of distant screams and gunfire echoed in the distance, and Cor’s thoughts momentarily went to Titus and Prompto, hoping that somehow, somewhere, they were both safe. However, the fact that Titus had failed to meet them prior to Glauca’s arrival, despite saying he was en route, almost certainly meant that the chances of his husband still being alive were next to none. 

Glauca shifted. Clarus summoned his shield in response, his faithful broadsword swapped to his right hand, and Cor was forced to push the thought of Titus to the back of his mind.

“Cor,” Regis said quietly, almost inaudibly. “Go.”

“ _What?!”_

“Go,” Regis repeated, his gaze locked firmly upon the unmoving Glauca. “Find the boys and get them to safety.”

“And leave you? I don’t think so.” Cor protested.

Clarus finally chose to interject “It is my duty to act as the King’s Shield Cor. Yours is to see to the safety of Insomnia and her people.” 

Opening his mouth to retort, he was cut off by Regis, “The boys are too inexperienced and will likely have been caught off guard. Dustin may have gone after them but if the city is as much of a warzone as the Citadel, they will need all the help that they can get and I can think of no one else I rather entrust my son’s life to.” A memory of four young boys sitting in the Citadel’s garden covered in mud and standing in front of a ‘mudman’ with toothless grins crossed his mind. “Iris is still out there too. They need you. Please Cor.”

“Regis-”

“I am not asking as your King. I am asking as your friend, as a father.” And of course, Glauca chose that moment to make his move. Moving faster than Cor ever expected a man of his size and build could, the armoured creature threw himself forward his blade coming up to clash against Clarus’ shield. For a man in his fifties, Clarus moved with the grace of his twenty-three-year-old self, blocking and parrying each of Glauca’s strikes. Darting to the right of the duelling pair, Cor shot forward attempting to bury Kotetsu into the General’s hip, only to be pushed aside by the flat side of his blade. The impact of hard steel against his ribs, followed by a collision with a chunk of concrete briefly winded him before he was back on his feet and throwing himself into the fray once more. 

With Clarus serving as a sufficient distraction and Regis firing off the occasional bolt of Thunder or a Royal Arm, it was easy enough for Cor to attack from behind. This time, instead of being brushed aside like an insect, he was able to spot and take advantage of a small gap in Glauca’s armour, just below his left shoulder blade, and although he wasn’t able to do as much damage as he had hoped, the quick stab was enough to prevent a killing blow on Clarus.

Glauca roared in pain, rearing up and swinging his blade in such a way that had Cor been a second slower, his head would have been cleaved from his shoulders. Rolling across the tiles, Cor slid back onto his feet beside Regis as Clarus slammed his shield into Glauca’s helm, sending the man stumbling back several feet.

Regis spun to look at him, grabbing Cor’s shoulder with more force than he had done so in years, “Go!” He shouted, pushing him in the direction of the doors.”Find our boys and keep them safe!” 

Glauca’s enraged roar was barely audible beneath the clash of blades and barrage of heavy artillery. 

“Regis-!”

“Fucking go!” Clarus bellowed as he parried another of Glauca’s attacks, followed up immediately by a bolt of Thunder from Regis.

A lump formed in Cor’s throat as he unwittingly took a step back. Neither man looked back at him as he began to retreat for the first time in his life, too focused on the attacking enemy to allow themselves any further distractions. 

Another explosion and a larger portion of the ceiling gave way, this time accompanied by the floor closest to the southern wall collapsing, plumes of smoke and fire bursting upwards. And Cor’s decision was made.

He had just dismissed Kotetsu and started towards the doors, desperately fighting the overwhelming need to turn back around and fight alongside his brothers, when the theme of an old Chocobo TV series Prompto adored started blaring from his back pocket. As desperate as he was to answer, he forced himself to wait for a few more precious seconds until he was in the relative safety of the corridor, away from Glauca, before answering.

“Dad!” Prompto cried, the usually bright and bubbly voice of his son marred by a mixture of panic and relief. In the background he could hear voices, Noctis’ and Gladiolus’, if he wasn’t mistaken, shouting about something intelligible. 

“Prompto,” Cor sighed in relief as he ran down the decimated corridors, dodging the occasional corpse and falling pieces of debris. “Are you safe?”

“We’re okay dad,” Prompto sobbed “We were in Noct’s apartment when the bombs went off, Gladio dragged us down to the safe room before the building started collapsing,” He’d thought the explosions were close to the Prince’s apartment, but to cause the entire structure to collapse? It had to have been right outside, if not attached to the support pillars in the basement. There was a pause and Cor’s heart skipped a beat as Prompto choked back tears “Dad,” He started again, his voice a lot softer than it had been previously, “Iggy’s hurt really bad dad.” _Shit._ “We didn’t realise, he was covered in blood and unconscious when Gladio grabbed him and told us to run but...he’s missing an _arm_ dad!” Gods fucking damn it. “I don’t know what to do!” And Prompto was wailing.

“Prom,” He said gently, pausing in his escape to dunk into an alcove. “Prom,” He waited for the soft _‘yeah?’_ before continuing “Put Gladiolus on the phone.” If the building had collapsed on top of them, sealing them beneath gods knows how many feet of rubble, that would certainly explain why Dustin hadn’t been able to reach them.

There’s the sound of shuffling, muffled voices and a sob before Gladiolus’ gruff, yet exhausted voice echoed down the phone, “Marshal.”

“Tell me everything.” And Gladiolus does. From the moment the bomb exploded, shattering the windows and blowing out the entire outer walls, to the way he’d had to drag Ignis out from beneath a pile of rubble, blood pouring from what remained of his left arm. The panic he’d felt as he desperately used his belt to create a makeshift tourniquet, despite Ignis’ agonised cries and the way he’d had to usher Noctis and Prompto, still dazed and afraid down the emergency stairs, leaving panicked residents to fight their way down the main stairwell. 

“We were on the fourth floor when the stairs started to fall out from under us,” Gladiolus whispered, his voice shaking. “Still not sure how we made it down here before it all came down, was just pulling the door shut when everything just collapsed. The screams Cor...gods the _screams._ ” Closing his eyes briefly, Cor rubbed his forehead. 

“It’s alright Gladiolus,” He soothed, hoping to provide the younger Shield with any form of comfort. “You did well, you got them to safety, no one can hurt you.”

“No one can get to us either.”

“Yes they can,” Gladiolus’ breath hitched “There’s a passage in and out of that room, one only your father and I know about. I need you to stay where you are, I’m coming to find you. Keep an eye on Ignis and call me back if he starts to get worse, you know what to look out for.”

“Iris-”

“Will be fine.” Cor interjected cutting Gladiolus off mid-sentence, “The guards on your estate will be looking after her, as will Jared. Don’t worry about her right now, focus on your current situation and keep yourselves safe.”

“Yes sir,” Gladiolus whispered, and gods did it break Cor’s heart to hear him sound so defeated, so broken.

“Keep your head up,” Cor said, stepping out from the alcove and changing direction, heading for the Council Chamber in the hopes of using the emergency exit that led down to Insomnia’s sewer system instead of the garage as he’d previously planned. “It’ll be okay, just hang on a little longer.” 

“Yes sir.” 

“Good lad,” Gladiolus’ breath hitched at the term of endearment. “Stay safe.”

“You too.” The phone line went dead and Cor took a moment to brush his thumb over the photo of himself, Prompto and Titus at a Chocobo festival in Lestallum. The last time they’d been able to leave the city together as a family. Tucking his phone in his pocket he forced himself into a sprint. Time was of the essence and it was something they were rapidly running out of. “I’ll find them Regis,” He swore, fighting to stay upright as the Citadel shook once again under the Imperial bombardment. “I promise.”


End file.
